The Sect of the Dancing Apple
by x-mas
Summary: A Night WorldL.J. Smith, Gundam Wing crossover...bizzare? Indeed. 300 years after the millenium an eccentric sect is out to commit murder, but who they want to kill and who is going to do the killing remains to be seen.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own it. Just borrowing.

**AUTHORS NOTE: **The idea for this was created in the middle of an IT exam and that was when this prologue was written as well…if anyone's ever sat through a three day IT exam you will see how that explains everything. If you haven't…lets just say it leaves you sanity challenged.

* * *

**Prologue **

The world ended on the 1st of January 2000. At least, it was supposed to, it was rather delayed by an unfortunate set of circumstances, unfortunate if you wanted the world to end that is. Now, almost 300 years later, arguments for the world ending on that day being a good thing were piling up rapidly.

Up until the year 2000, wars were relatively messy business, lots of one on one slaughter with tiny bits of metal being propelled at high speeds into people's bodies…same idea as spitting paper pellets at someone with a straw except ever so slightly more deadly. However, humans have been driven for many years by the desire to kill more people, quicker and with less need for elbow grease at the end. So what did we think? Well, we didn't, that being the key problem with everything we do, instead, we decided to blow people up with bigger bits of metal and with some things that flashed pretty colours and had a tendency to hum. Also, we decided that face to face…or at least…general blurred shape in the distance to blurred shape in the distance was rather crude, so, for the most part, we now seal our soldiers in walking chunks of rather hard material, though of course, we have yet to eliminate the fast moving piece of metal as huge chunks of hard material are rather impractical indoors.

So we reach the year AC 197 and there have been a few wars…one forgets what they were about and some very elite soldiers have decided to take up a new line of work…well, haven't all little boys dreamed of being and assassin/private investigator/general violent man for hire at some point or other?

Now we must return to the small matter of the end of the world, as I have mentioned it did not occur and those involved in the supposed bringing about thereof, you might think were mildly disappointed. Well no, they are jubilant. Yes, are, they are still alive. As they gathered on that cold and rather dull looking night all those years ago…something happened, we forget that too, some of them died but those who survived regained consciousness in a field in southern France several months later and there were butterflies hovering around, yes, butterflies. One can be relatively sure these butterflies were most amused and giggled for a very long time. This unplanned trip to France, like many a poorly planned package holiday had surprising extras, no, not a picnic hamper, but immortality.

Sit back and imagine just how problematic and annoying that would be if anyone ever tried to kill them?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One**

Langdon Enfield often asked himself why he had chosen to become a public relations officer for what was arguably the strangest government department ever to exist…and also the one which seemed always to be desperately in need of public relations at odd hours of the day…and night. He refrained from thinking about why the press liaison team might desperately need his help at 3am on the way up in the lift, it was often better than way, less time for fear to develop into pure terror. He knew it was going to be a bad day when he could hear the chanting before he'd even gotten near the main "Chamber of Enlightenment" as they insisted it be called. It didn't sound as though a particularly violent chant was being used on this occasion, this held some comfort and promised the possibility of rationality on the behalf of the leaders of what had become fondly known as The Sect of the Dancing Apple. Langdon assumed it had something to do with the little green logo belonging to the group.

His hopes were dashed quite spectacularly when he opened the main door to find the room sparsely lit with green light, all furniture stacked around the central table to create a childish looking fortress. Junior members stood round the edges of the room, which happened to be circular, swaying and chanting and waving their arms in a way that was almost comical, the five leaders sat on top of the table, legs crossed in the pose of someone meditating glaring at each other also chanting. The head of the press team, a very attractive young woman by the name of Clarissa Holly, stood in the empty space between the table and the door fidgeting in a most endearing way.

She heard him enter and strode to him frowning heavily, "Mr Enfield." She said formally.

"What's this latest drama?" he asked, trying not to sigh in resigned fashion.

"They have decided to try and find _them,_" she said, giving her words meaning with emphasis, "and each thinks they know the best way to do it."

He winced instinctively, for _they _were the only reason this organisation existed. Nearly 300 years ago, seismologists around the world had started to record readings of enormous energy within the earth…but there were no signs of it on the surface. The kind of readings they were getting should have been producing the biggest earthquakes ever recorded all over the earth…but they weren't. The Sect of the Dancing Apple had been set up to investigate it, under a different name of course, and had initially done the same boring things many investigation committees did, surveys, studies and a lot of talking about possibilities. That was up until they managed to pinpoint a general origin for the energy, around 20 years after it had been recorded, and had found a box, buried deep underground. In this box they found documents and diaries. At first glance the accounts within seemed impossible, things of fairytales, telling stories of shape shifters, vampires and witches, but, the deputy head of the department thought there might be truth in them, he thought that they were a bit too detailed and consistent so he started to investigate them further. He managed to match some of the events to newspaper stories and to other mysterious accounts that had been put down as being made by insane people. As he investigated further he became obsessed with the idea that he could somehow harness some of the powers described. His activities took a turn for the disturbing, he started to combine the facts he'd found with obscure rituals linked to devil worship that promised magical abilities and in this way, slowly but surely, the sect formed.

After this first leader started to practise human sacrifice, he was arrested and put in a prison for the criminally insane, but the idea was not lost. The sect stayed alive in the department, which still existed as the authorities were convinced the leader was the only person to commit these crimes. Over the next 200 odd years a concrete religion formed, they worshipped the idea of these powerful people…especially a certain four people, who were named throughout the documents "The Wild Powers."

Langdon knew that when Clarissa said _they_, she meant the wild powers, "But," he said carefully, hoping to prolong blissful ignorance, "Aren't the wild powers dead? Seeing as we're talking about things that happened 300 flippin' years ago! And even if they weren't they'd have no idea where they were or their names anyway?" It was a question, he was hoping she'd tell him this was all true and this was wild fancy on the leaders part, but she shook her head.

"There were some documents that they'd been keeping secret from everyone which contained the names. That in itself isn't helpful, but it also had photographs of them…then a few days ago they found this." she handed him a newspaper, a small town gazette newspaper actually, it was opened to a page quite a way through it and in the centre of a page there was a photograph, it contained three young men who were staring into the middle distance, blissfully unaware of the picture being taken, the caption said something about a county fair.

"This is significant, why?" he said, frustrated, getting a quick answer was starting to feel impossible.

"That boy," she pointed at one of the three young men in the picture, "He's one of them."

Langdon blinked. Then blinked again. "Are they sure?"

"There's no doubt."

Clarissa Holly never thought she was capable of reducing a fully-grown man to tears, but she was now rapidly re-evaluating her powers. At her confirmation that the leaders were in fact definite that they had positively identified one of the wild powers in the photo, Langdon had thrown his hands in the air with a whimper before burying his head in them and proceeded to sob hysterically.

"Mr Enfield?" she said timidly, Clarissa was always timid when she was confronted with unusual situations, she also always felt slightly cheated that her self-assertiveness classes never covered said unusual situation, however she never could gather the courage to ask for her money back, "Mr Enfield please calm down!" louder this time.

Gradually, Langdon let his hands fall to his sides, tears drying remarkably quickly and with a hefty sniff he restored himself to his former manliness. "There will be no stopping them," he noted in resigned tones, "They're bad enough when theirs no evidence to support their quest, but now?"

"It can't be as bad as all that," Clarissa spoke soothingly and patted his arm sympathetically. It was all right for her, Langdon thought sourly, she was new.

"Yes…yes it can." He assured her hastily, "We have to prepare for the worst, the absolute worst. We need a cover story, we need…" he trailed off into a mutter and strode out of the "Chamber of Enlightenment" with Clarissa trailing nervously in his wake, there was work to do.


End file.
